


We might be dead by tomorrow

by brokxnharry



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death Kinda, Child Abandonment, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Post-Allison's Death, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sad Scott, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Season 3 Finale, but they could be more as you like, mentions of Allison, mentions of erica and boyd - Freeform, mentions of stiles' and scott's past, sad everybody really, stiles and scott are friends, stiles sacrifices himself for the team, young friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Stiles did use that sword on himself to get rid of the nogitsune? </p>
<p>(A different scenario for how s3 finale could have gone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We might be dead by tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song we might be dead by tomorrow by soko.  
> I like toying around with storylines and I always have different scenarios to how things could have gone, and this is one of them, so I hope you enjoy it :)   
> Please let me know what you think through kudos or comments or anything really!
> 
> (I don't own any of the characters or teen wolf itself)

_You killed her. You killed them. All of them._

Stiles' trembling hands held the sword to his stomach, to his chest, to his heart, to where it'd hurt the most and end it all. Finally. Everything would end.

" Stiles, don't. Please." He heard Scott's voice, through the loudness in his head, the pounding of his heart, and the nogitsune's voice that never died down. That was always there.

" I have to. I have to do this. I have to end it. To save everyone. To fucking kill the nogitsune. I can't let him kill anyone else. I can't live with what he'd done. What he'd made me do. Yeah. This is the right thing to do. This makes sense."

Stiles was looking down at his reflection on the sword, speaking mostly to himself, repeating that mantra over and over again, like that would somehow make it easier, make the sword pierce through him and take him away.

He saw Allison falling into Scott's arms. Dying. She was dead. She was gone. He saw the Onis hurting his dad and Parresh and everyone around. Hurting Melissa. She was dying. Everyone was dying. He saw innocent people in the hospital, getting in the way without really meaning to, without knowing. They were killed. They were dead. All of them.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, but tears still fell past his tired eyelids, dissolving onto the snow around them. He willed his hands to steady, his chest to cease its frantic rise and fall in a desperate attempt to get any air in.

" You kept me around, Stiles. You saved me from killing myself, and now, you want to leave me? You can't do that. We don't do that to each other, Stiles. We don't just leave. Not with one of us being left behind. Not like this. Please. Just give me a chance to figure something out. There has got to be something else we can do." Scott struggled against the Onis but they wouldn't let him go. They wouldn't let him get to his friend and save him, or maybe go with him. Whatever it took. Whatever it would take.

" There isn’t. Scott, I can't. I'm sorry. I-"

" I already lost Allison, Stiles. Don't make me lose you too."

" But that's also because of me. That all happened because- because of me. I did that." He was suffocating upon the realization that he'd hurt everyone he'd ever cared for. He did so many unspeakable things, things that he wouldn’t be able to live with, or through. For the first time since the nogitsune took over him, he was at peace with the idea of dying. He wanted it to end.

" I'm sorry, Scott." He whispered under his breath, like it was his little secret, the note he would be leaving to the world, but most importantly, to Scott.

" No, Stiles, no wait," Before he could finish it, before Stiles could hear it, before Scott could let it out, a gasp had left his friend's bluing lips, eyes wide, frantic, as he fell onto his knees, the sword going through his stomach, but not coming out of the other end. He was too weak to push it all the way through.

The Oni finally let Scott go, as he rushed to his friend's side, catching him before he fall onto his front, deepening the sword's position through him. Scott didn't know what to do. Stiles was coughing up blood, his eyes unfocused, taking too long to reopen, every time he blinked away his tears.

_You killed her. You killed them. All of them._

" Fuck, Stiles. Fuck. Okay. I need to pull that sword out, okay? Stay with me. Don't you dare close your eyes, Stiles, you hear me?" Stiles made a sound at the back of his throat, and Scott chose to take it as an approval, as a promise. He wouldn't just leave him like this, not with this being the last thing he'd see of him.

Scott put both hands on the handle of the sword, remembering when the nogitsune had twisted the sword in his guts, over and over again. He still couldn't look into Stiles' eyes because that was all he could see there now. Scott breathed out, calming his shaky arms, before he pulled the sword out. He could feel every organ it'd hit against, every hole it'd leave behind. Stiles let out a scream, before he collapsed forward, but Scott caught him.

He was holding him, chest to chest, as he put his hand onto his open wound, feeling his blood filling the spaces between his fingers, drowning his palms in red that he thought would never truly fade away.

" Okay, buddy. You're going to be okay now." Stiles made a choking sound, his head too heavy for him to carry the weight of. He was just so incredibly tired.

" Illusion. Not real. Scott. Not real." He had to focus on the movement of his lips, on getting his voice out, instead of letting it die down inside him, or bleed out along with everything else. He needed Scott to hear him. He needed him to know.

" What? What are you trying to say?" Scott took Stiles' face into his hands, supporting the weight of his head that was almost falling away. Stiles coughed out blood, gasping for air like he'd choked on something. Scott couldn't take his pain away, couldn't help him. He was too far gone. Nothing was working anymore.

" Illusion. Get out. Not real. Go, Scott. Go."

" Okay. Okay, yeah. I'll stand you up and Kira and I will carry you out. Just hold on." Stiles eyes were closed but he could have sworn he could see the panicked tears forming in Scott's eyes, the stubborn frown forming on his forehead. He would have liked to see him, one more time, before he'd have to go. He shook his head, losing his voice, along with everything else.

" You go. Leave me. **_Go_**." 

_You killed her. You killed them. All of them._

" No way in hell am I leaving you here. We're going to leave this place, together, and we'll face whatever is waiting for us on the other side. We’ll get you stitched up and everything will be okay. We've got this, Stiles, but we've only got it if we're together. I can't do this without you, man. I can't do anything without you." Scott held Stiles' face a bit tighter, rested his forehead against Stiles', breathing in the same air that he shakily breathed out.

If Stiles had it in him, he would have burst into tears then, but everything was pouring out of him and he thought his tears probably had been bled out by now. He couldn't process the thought of crying, or moving, or reacting. And Scott didn't expect him to.

Kira retrieved her sword that was now taunted by Stiles' blood. She was barely able to handle the weight of the realization. Scott stood up first, putting both Stiles' arms over one of his shoulders, before lifting him. Stiles' arms were against Scott's back, his head barely brushing past Scott's shoulder. Scott could hear Stiles' lungs crackling under the pressure of the fluids filling them up. He could hear his heartbeat, almost fading into nothing. He could smell death on his friend and he almost threw up.

" Kira, stay behind me. Stiles says this isn't real. It's going to feel like it, but we have to get through this and get him out."

" A divine move." Scott thought he heard Kira say under her breath, but he was already pushing through the Onis, who were cutting him down the legs, putting their toxic swords through his arms, his chest. He was fading, but he had to get Stiles and Kira out. He had to end this, even if it killed him.

He could hear Kira, screaming in pain, and he wanted to turn to help. He really did. But Stiles' weight on his shoulder was bending him forward, almost bringing him to his knees, and he couldn't, for the life of him, turn her way. He could barely move at all.

Finally. God, finally. They pushed past the nogitsune and out of the gate and everything disappeared. All the cuts and wounds and bleeding. All the Onis and swords and ghosts of their imagination. Stiles was right. Of course he was. Scott gasped out a long breath of relief, so long, that he almost felt his lungs collapsing with the impact.

He laid Stiles down, and before he could think of it, before he could process it, Kira was pulling him into an embrace that he couldn't deny. He held her and they both laughed, each whispering their own interpretation of _"I can't believe it worked"_. Something still felt so incredibly wrong though. Scott could feel it.

He pulled away, laying a hand on her back, because he didn't mean to seem unenthusiastic, or uncaring, but Stiles was still laying right where Scott had left him and he wasn't moving. His eyes weren't opened, he stopped making those choked sounds like he was drowning, but the wound in his stomach was still there, red, and angry, and bleeding. It didn't make any sense. This was all supposed to be a thread of imagination. Yet nothing had felt more real, than the silence of not having Stiles' heartbeat there.

" Stiles?" Scott went to fall next to his friend, to hold his neck up because that had to hurt, to do something, anything, but the nogitsune appeared again, walking towards them, with angry threats, and promises of death, of doom.

" Divine move? You think you have any moves at all? You can kill the Onis but me? **_Me_**? I'm a thousand years old, you can't kill me!" He yelled. Scott was once again taken back by how it looked like it was Stiles. It looked like it was all Stiles. Scott closed his eyes. He didn't need something else to blame Stiles for.

" No, but we can change you." He heard Lydia's voice, sounding weak, strained, like she was forcing it out. Scott opened his eyes, and she was leaning against the lockers, drenched in blood and sweat and tears.

" Lydia? Are you hurt?" Scott questioned, approaching her, but the nogitsune was there first, as her back hit the lockers, in an attempt for her to get away from him somehow.

" What?"

" Change the host. You can't be a fox and a wolf." Lydia said. Realization dawned on the nogitsune's face, and before he could react, before he could even turn to fight them, Scott had his fangs piercing through his arm, as he bit him. He had to stop himself before doing something he regretted. He had to stop himself before he'd gone too far.

Scott pulled himself away, just as Kira pushed her sword through his chest. And Scott watched as what looked like his friend collapsed onto his knees, twitching, like something ugly, something horrid, was leaving him. A single insect escaped his mouth, and Isaac caught it, closing the box to make sure it'd stay there. The nogitsune then shattered, fading into dust before hitting the ground. Scott felt like he was losing his best friend all over again.

Scott rushed to Lydia, pulling her into his arms before she collapsed. She clung to his shirt, letting out a choked sob, as she buried her face into his chest. He closed his eyes, touching her shoulder, and wanting to pull any pain away, but there was none. She wasn't hurt, at least not physically. Thank God.

" It's Aiden. An Oni got to him." Scott squeezed his eyes shut at that. Another life taken. One more person's blood on his hand because he couldn't protect them. Scott felt heavy. He wanted to lay down next to Stiles and just… fade.

" Scott," Isaac sounded panicked. Scott pulled away from Lydia's grip, but still held her, as he tilted his head to where Isaac sat, next to the unresponsive Stiles.

" I can't hear a heartbeat. There's nothing. I- I don't know what that means. He-" Scott moved away, falling to his knees next to his friend, taking his face into his hands like he had before.

" Stiles? Buddy, come on, open your eyes for me." Stiles' head lolled, almost falling away, if it hadn't been for Scott's desperate grasp. Stiles' skin was so sickly pale, except for the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the blood that was drying onto him. Layers upon layers of his own blood. They could almost sink under the weight of it all.

" The jeep is outside. We need to drive him to the hospital." He leaned to hold his friend, to carry him, to fix him, somehow. Lydia screamed. Scott ignored what that meant. He ignored the ringing in his ears, the pounding in his heart, that felt like it was breaking more and more, every time it hit against his ribcage. He ignored Isaac's questions and Kira's consoling and just- everything. He put Stiles into the backseat, as Isaac helped Lydia and Kira back there as well; one of them holding Stiles' head, and the other holding his legs. Isaac got into the passenger seat, head tilting backwards to take in Stiles' figure. He still looked dead. Defeated. Gone.

" Start on CPR. Talk to him. Do- just do something. Don't let him die, or I swear to God, I- just don't let him die." Scott couldn't breathe. Every time he blinked, he saw Stiles, with a sword in his stomach, collapsing. Over and over again. His airways were blocked with guilt and grief and fear. God. He was so fucking terrified that this would be it. This would be how his friend would go. How he'd leave him. He couldn't. He couldn't do it. He couldn't fucking breathe.

" Scott, use this." Isaac handed him the spare inhaler that Stiles always had. Scott's heart broke a little more.

" Fuck," Scott hit his hand against the steering wheel, once, twice, and waited for Stiles to yell at him for it. To tell him that this was his baby and he couldn't take his anger out on her, or leave her behind. No one would be left behind. God, he couldn't lose Stiles.

He wiped at his face, smearing Stiles' blood all over his face. The smell caused him to gag. Or maybe it was the thought of having to lose Stiles, of never seeing him again, of this, being the last memory he'd have with him.

" Anything?" He frantically questioned, speeding through the seemingly endless road to the hospital.

" I- I don't know, Scott, he won't breathe. He won't move or- react at all. I don't know what to do." Lydia cried. Scott almost did too, but he bit down on his lip, tasting blood, but he could already taste Stiles'. It was overwhelming his senses.

" Keep trying, Lydia. We can't stop. We can't let him go." She was pounding against his chest, hitting, pushing, breathing air into his mouth, waiting for something to happen. Anything to move, to give her hope to keep going. Until a small breath went past his lips, before he started throwing up more blood. Lydia turned him to his side, patting his back, whispering kind words to urge him on.

" Oh my God, I can hear it. His heartbeat. It's there." Scott breathed, as the hospital came into view. He left the jeep in front of the gate, rushing out of his seat, and carrying Stiles. Stiles felt a lot lighter than he'd remembered him to be. The nogitsune had taken away so much of him.

" Help! Somebody help us, please. Mum!" Scott yelled, until his mother appeared, with a gurney pushed behind her. Her eyes widened. There was just so much blood. She composed herself, she'd grown accustomed to that, she was always preparing herself for the next injury, the next time they'd come in and it'd be too late.

" Talk me through it, Scott, what happened?" Melissa allowed the doctor on call along with a few nurses to take the gurney with Stiles' unmoving body away, as she stayed behind, to hear the uncensored, truth from her son. She knew there were things he wouldn't be able to discuss with anyone else but her.

" The nogitsune had us stuck in some sort of illusion back in the school. They were killing us, him and his Onis. He- he told Stiles that he'd kill us all, one by one, he said he had you and, Stiles' dad too, he told Stiles to-" His eyes fell onto his mother's leg, appearing through the torn fabric of her pants, covered in blood that looked to have been there for a while.

" Mum, what happened? Are you hurt?" Scott dropped, taking his mother's knees into his hands, and inspecting the wound that didn't seem to be there anymore. He looked up, and she had a calm smile, with her fingers through his hair, soothing his obvious panic.

" It's okay, baby, one of the Onis, or whatever they're called, did come after me, but it went away on its own. I thought it would all be over, but…"

" He did it to himself, mum. Stiles. He- he stabbed himself, because the fucking nogitsune told him it was the only way. He thought he was saving us, and he did, but- it shouldn't have been that way. This never should have happened." His head bowed down, all his composure and energy and power dissolving away. Everything seemingly leaving him as it hit him, over and over. Stiles had hurt himself. Stiles had almost died. Stiles had given himself up, to save everyone else's life. To end it.

" Oh Scott," Melissa fell to the ground, next to her son, pulling him into her arms, and allowing him to finally let himself go. He deflated, sagging against his mother, and just letting himself be held by her.

" We need to call the Sheriff. He needs to know."

" Not yet, mum. Don't go. Don't leave." He held on, wrapping his arms around her neck, and burying himself further into her. He felt so incredibly small, so powerless. His heart was still aching and he couldn't quite breathe, and he didn't know if it was his asthma, or panic, or something else completely that was tearing at him from the inside out. He just felt so incredibly exhausted, and he wished he could sleep it all away, every bit of it.

" Okay, honey, okay. We'll stay here for as long as you need."

And so they did. She thought of two boys, running around, laughing, chasing after something they couldn't quite understand, looking through corners of life that they didn’t know, that they never should have known. She thought of late nights, and whispers, and stories, and adventures that would never make sense to anyone else but the two of them.

And he thought of a heartbeat that had guided him through life, that had always been there, every time he slept too close and woke up to a kind chest and steady breathing. Every time he played a sport or two and felt it speeding. Every time he smelled anxiety and felt it losing its pace for a while. It had always been there. He'd felt it before he'd been able to hear it and it stopped tonight. It stopped and he didn't know what to do with himself. It was far too quiet without Stiles' heartbeat. He thought he'd never be able to hear anything else after that.

The doctor came running down the hall and Scott heard that. He heard him telling his mother that Stiles was still internally bleeding and he'd pierced his lung and they needed to operate. He heard the worry in his voice and he smelled the hopelessness on him and every single person that had walked into that OR.

He called the Sheriff and heard him losing his breath for a while, before his voice cracked completely. He heard Isaac announcing that he had to take the box back to Chris before something bad happened. He heard his phone ringing and Derek's name flashing but he couldn't bring himself to talk. Not yet. Not now.

He sat in the waiting room and heard every single thing going on around him but not really. It all sounded constrained. Like he was under water and the sounds were barely breaking through the surface. Like he had his hands over his ears because he didn't want to have to hear anything until he could hear Stiles' voice. And every time he checked, his hands were shaking in his lap, still covered in Stiles' blood.

Lydia came and sat beside him, not really having it in her to speak either. He appreciated that. He closed his eyes and listened to her heartbeat and wondered, if he squeezed his eyes tight enough, if he'd be able to imagine this heartbeat to be Stiles'. He couldn't. Nothing ever sounded like his.

Kira sat on his other side. Next to Derek and the still crying Ethan that hadn't stopped grieving his brother yet, that probably never would. God. Scott didn't want to have to grieve his own brother. He didn't want to have to cry over him for the rest of his life because he knew he would. If Stiles did go, did leave him, he'd never stop crying. He'd never stop grieving his loss. He'd never stop wishing it was him.

When Stiles' dad arrived, he immediately went to Scott, pulling him into his arms without a single word. It felt like Scott was all he had left of his own son. It felt like if he held on long enough, Stiles would somehow stay, would fight. They cried into each other's arms. It was the first time Scott had ever seen Stiles' dad cry since his wife's passing. And it was the first time Scott had allowed himself to fully feel the possible loss of Stiles, and everything that had come with it that day.

Scott didn't hear anything for a few hours after that, except for the sound the sword had made as it broke past Stiles' skin, and the choked scream that had escaped him, although he'd done everything he could to hold it in, to keep it all inside. Scott's eyes closed, when the doctor came again, this time, speaking to the Sheriff. His mother's voice was there too.

Scott heard _"blood loss"_ , and _"shock"_ , and _"stable"_ , and he recoiled upon himself, bending so that his chest rested against his thigh and his face buried into his knees. He tried to make himself as small as possible, the way he had, when he couldn't leave his bed after his father had left them for good. When Stiles crawled in bed with him, hid under the same covers, like he was being chased by the same sense of abandonment, like he felt, every single thing that Scott did.

" Scott, maybe you should go in, and see him first." The Sheriff said, putting a hand over Scott's shoulder, and giving it a slight squeeze. Scott's head lifted, eyes wide, as he took in the father's distressed, yet, hopeful, eyes.

" A- What?"

" He's going to want to see you first anyway. And you've been with him. I know you need this too." Scott rose, throwing his arms around the Sheriff and just holding him. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if he was capable of enduring seeing Stiles so hurt in bed, but not seeing him, was so much worse. He still couldn't shake the quiet of not hearing his heartbeat. He needed to make sure it was there now.

Melissa smiled when Scott pulled away, circling her arms around his waist, as she walked him to where Stiles' room was. She kissed his cheek, telling him that she would be right around the corner if he needed her, before she let him be.

He breathed in, slowly, before breathing out. He could hear his heart, hitting against his chest, urging him on, or maybe, pleading with him to walk the other way, and wait for his friend to get back to himself. Scott didn't think his heart could handle much more.

He looked down upon his trembling hands, as they struggled to open the door. When they did, Scott's eyes moved away from them, and onto Stiles' sleeping figure. He had tubes attached to his arms, his stomach, one, going down his nose, helping him breathe. His top half was wrapped in a bloody bandage, and it looked like it was the only thing keeping his body from breaking in half. Scott wished he could un-see this, could un-feel this. He wished he had it in him to run and hide somewhere.

Scott's knees were hitting against each other, as if one leg wanted to go one way, and the other wanted out. He fell into a chair, taking Stiles' hand in his, careful not to stir any of the tubes attached to it. His veins were apparent, a violet blue against his pale hands. They looked strained. Stiles still looked dead, but the machine was helping his chest rise and fall and Scott found comfort in that.

Scott perked his ears, closing his eyes, and focusing all his senses on this; on finding Stiles' steady heartbeat. And he did. It was there, not nearly as strong or as reassuring as he remembered it to be, as it was always supposed to be, but it finally tore at the quiet that had settled in. Scott felt less alone. Like he wasn't losing his mind now that he had that to guide him.

" Okay. Okay, buddy. Everything is going to be okay. I've got you now." Scott still had Stiles' hand in his own, when he rested his head onto the bed. He needed his hand to have his heartbeat as close to him as possible. Tiredness caught up with him, as his eyes slowly, carefully, began to close.

He didn't dream much, not since he'd become a werewolf. But he could see Allison; smiling proudly, after killing an Oni. He could see the exact moment her smile started fading into sheer horror, unspeakable pain, when the Oni's sword pierced through her. He could see her falling, he could see himself rushing to get to her, to catch her. And once he did, Allison became Stiles, with the sword still through him, choking on his own bodily fluids, eyes unable to see Scott, as he tried to keep him present, keep him around.

Stiles was fading, and he couldn't do anything to help. Couldn't stop it. Couldn't take away his pain. Couldn't bear the burden of the nogitsune for him. Couldn't even clear his conscious for him. He couldn't do anything but watch him die. Watch him go.

Scott heard a frantic heartbeat and thought it was his own. But he started feeling struggle, smelling panic, and he opened his eyes, awakening, to find Stiles, fighting against the tube down his throat. He was awake. He was breathing on his own.

" Oh my God, Stiles, hey, it's me. I'm here. I'm right here. Oh thank fuck, you're good, you're just fine." Scott pressed the button that his mother had taught him to, and she came rushing in, as well as the doctor that had performed the surgery on Stiles.

" Okay, Stiles, this will scratch your throat, but on my count, I need you to cough it out. Don't fight it, alright? It'll only hurt more." Stiles' eyes widened, and the pain that Scott could smell, subsided a bit, to be overwhelmed by shock, or maybe relief. Stiles didn't care about the tubes or his throat or the resurfacing pain in his stomach. He cared about seeing Melissa; alive and well. He thought he was dead. He thought this was heaven; some twisted version of that.

" She's fine, Stiles. Don't worry. Your dad is too." Stiles' eyes fell shut when he heard his friend's reassurance, his head moving in nods, as if to tame the panic that had to have been roaming through him because yes, nothing was wrong. They were okay. They made it. They weren't gone.

They tried to push Scott away, but Stiles held on tighter to the hand he still grasped, his tearful eyes falling onto his friend, silently pleading with him to stay, to not leave him alone to his thoughts, to himself.

" I'm right here. Not going anywhere." Scott promised, allowing the doctors enough space to move, without once letting go of Stiles.

Stiles did cough out the tube, and it hurt like hell. It hurt so much, he found himself crying, but he pulled it together, held it back for later. Melissa, with the help of the other nurses, removed all unnecessary tubes, checking his vitals, before letting him rest. The door closed, and before Stiles could process Melissa's _"welcome back"_ , he was pulled into Scott's unmistakable arms. And that was when he cried; loudly, brokenly, almost, limitlessly. And so did Scott.  

" Don't ever, do this to me again. I don't care what's happening. I don't care how bad it is or what we're up against. Never choose this again. Never put me through this again, Stiles. Not like this. Not with you." Scott pulled away slightly, holding Stiles' face in his hands, and taking in every detail, memorizing this, instead of the gruesome images haunting him. There was no longer blood, or death scent, or spilled guts, or swords. There was just Stiles. And Scott. Like it always had been.

" I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Stiles was still crying. He leaned back into Scott, desperate for his proximity, the sense of comfort he offered, the sense of belonging. Stiles was sorry for Allison. For the nogitsune. For all the people he'd hurt. For Scott himself. He was just so sorry and he still didn’t know what to do with it all, with himself.

" Okay, it's okay. Oh my God, you're okay." Scott held tighter, pulled closer, whispered quieter. He couldn't believe Stiles was awake and stable and in his arms. He couldn't believe he didn't lose him.

Stiles slowly calmed down, his consistent sobs fading into occasional sniffles, and heavy breathing that wouldn't go away for a while. Scott carefully pulled away, making sure to leave his hands somewhere on Stiles to settle him, to reassure him.

" Are you okay? You should probably get some sleep. You need your rest."

" You'll stay, right? You're not going to leave, are you?" Stiles sounded like he did when his mother passed; when he was too scared to sleep by himself, and needed Scott to be there. When he was always having some sort of attack and his dad was too busy drinking through his grief to notice. When his sleep was all nightmares and only Scott could really bring him back. Scott smiled, weakly, reassuringly, as he nodded, helping Stiles settle down, tucking him in.

" I'm not going anywhere." Scott promised. Stiles scooted away. The bed was too small and it could barely fit Stiles, but they made it work. Scott laid his head next to Stiles' feet, and they rested, across from one another, the way they always did, when they were too young to understand the difference between a dream and a nightmare. When insomnia wasn't something they knew, but it was something they both experienced. Together. When they'd thought Stiles' breathlessness was the same as Scott's; physical.

" Do you need to talk about it?" Scott heard the fluctuations in the heart monitor, he heard Stiles' heavy breathing, and how he sometimes choked on air. He smelled the discomfort, the restlessness. He could take pain, but not this. He couldn't spare him of this.

" I don't know if I can. Don't know if I can ever go back to how I was, to who I was, or am, or was supposed to be. I- it's like I feel him in me, somewhere, lurking. And it- it terrifies me because what if I hurt someone else? What if I do something and- you wanna know something? I only let you stay because I know that when it comes down to it, you can protect yourself. You can stop me. But dad can’t. Or Lydia. Or your mum. So what if it's them, Scott? What if I do something to them that I can't take back? That I- I can't live with?" Scott could smell the tears before he heard Stiles crying, but he chose to let him let it out, give him some privacy to recollect himself, to not have to need someone else to calm him down, even if it was Scott.

" I think you can't go back from this. I think, sometimes, we have blood on our hands, and we're so heavy with guilt, we don't think we can live with it. But we do. Because we have to. Because people still expect us, and count on us to. Because life doesn't really stop, Stiles, even when you want it to. It doesn't wait around for you to recompose and recharge. So sometimes, you're going to have to learn to live with that blood on your hands, and adjust to that heaviness. You're going to have to learn to live with yourself, carrying all that."

" But… Allison, Scott." And Aiden, Scott wanted to add, but didn’t. He couldn't throw that onto Stiles when he was this vulnerable. He couldn't be the one telling him something more to blame himself for.

" I don't blame you for that. Chris doesn’t. Lydia doesn’t. No one lost her and blamed you, because you didn't do it, Stiles. Still. You're going to have to live with it like you did."

" Why?"

" Because your heart will make it feel like it was on you. You experience guilt differently; more profoundly. You carry your heart on your sleeve, Stiles, and you feel everything, so fucking deeply. And that's- I love that about you. But sometimes, you'll feel this, and I can't help, because I can't take it for you. I can't bring her back."

" Is that how you felt, with Erica? Boyd?" And you. But again. Scott didn't say it.

" That's how I **_still_** feel. Yeah."

It was silent for a minute or two. Everything had calmed and Scott thought Stiles had fallen asleep.

" Well, that sucks." It was so spontaneous, so genuine, and easy, Scott couldn't help but chuckle. He didn't really have anything to say, so he remained silent.

" Will it help if I tell you that it wasn't your fault? That Erica and Boyd weren't on you?" Stiles said, his voice now sleepy, tired, Scott feared he'd been hallucinating it. He responded anyway.

" Will it help if I tell you that Allison wasn't on you? That none of it was?"

" Fair enough." Stiles yawned and Scott smiled, breathing out, and closing his own eyes.

" Go to sleep, Stiles. It'll be better when you wake up."

It wasn't. Scott had to shake Stiles awake from a nightmare. The machines were going crazy and his heart was beating so fast, Scott feared it'd crash again. Scott didn't think he'd be able to handle that again. Stiles was crying, until his dad appeared, pulling him into his arms, and promising things that he probably wouldn't be able to make happen. It didn't matter. It calmed Stiles down anyway.

Everyone came in to check on Stiles, and he wasn't himself. Not even close. But sometimes, bits of him would peek through, and it'd give Scott hope. That he'd do better than Scott himself had. That he'd be able to cope with this without feeling it overwhelming him, more times than not. Maybe it wouldn't have to be so fucking hard for his friend.  

As soon as Derek came in with Ethan, Stiles knew. He looked between them, then at Lydia, who winced, because Ethan looked just like Aiden, and it was too soon for her. Stiles put his hands down onto his wound. He pushed and pushed till it started bleeding again. Scott thought he was losing him all over again, but Stiles told him that pain grounded him. Kept him there, for the here and the now. So Scott let him, and willed himself not to cry, until he couldn't take it anymore, putting his hands onto his friend's stomach, and taking some of the pain away. Stiles looked at Scott then, his eyes telling him something that looked like an _"I'm sorry"_ , but his voice said a thank you, that Scott shrugged off.

Before Lydia left, Stiles pulled her into a hug. He spoke to her, so quietly, for a minute or two, and she cried when she pulled away, but smiled through it, nodding, before leaning in to kiss Stiles' cheek, and finally, walking away. Derek and Ethan followed, after having had enough of Stiles' apologies. He couldn't stop. The remorse inside him was too much and he had to let it out somehow. He had to let them know how much it was killing him that he'd unknowingly contributed to their losses.

Isaac came back with Chris, after getting rid of the box. Stiles couldn't take it then. He started crying as soon as he saw Chris. Chris patted his shoulder, telling them that he had to go away for a while, handle this, and himself. Isaac would be going too. Stiles opened his mouth to apologize for that too, but they caught it, telling him that it wasn't his fault. But he still blamed himself. Scott could tell. Something always dimmed about him when the guilt took over.

Isaac, Chris, and Kira left together, leaving Scott and the Sheriff with Stiles. He spoke to his dad, as casually as he possibly could, about anything, and nothing. He never mentioned that night or the nogitsune or how it felt when that sword cut through him.

Stiles had nightmares all through his stay in the hospital, and well after that. Scott was there for most of them. Stiles let him, because some nights, Stiles needed the gravitational force that was his friendship with Scott. But most nights, it was Scott who needed the reassurance, that his friend was there, that his heartbeat was steady and safe and well. Scott would have to learn to live with that; trying to fill the silence that would always be there, in his mind, somewhere, every time he thought of almost losing his friend. And Stiles had to learn to live with that too; that sense of inhumanity, like something was wrong with him. And something always would be. And that had to be okay. For both of them.


End file.
